


In the Middle of the Night

by DenmarkStreetGutterClub



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: Bed with clean sheets, Denmark Street flat, F/M, Sleep Aids, Strike never says no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29703516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenmarkStreetGutterClub/pseuds/DenmarkStreetGutterClub
Summary: Robin can't sleep. Strike appears to be dreaming. Will she make his dreams come true?
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Kudos: 35





	In the Middle of the Night

Robin Ellacott couldn’t sleep. Picking her phone up off the ledge of the windowsill where she left it when she was staying in Strike’s Denmark Street flat, she saw that it was only three in the morning. She felt wide awake. 

It was never completely dark in Strike’s tiny attic flat - lights from the street below seemed to infiltrate the space, despite the small windows. She could hear Strike breathing softly next to her. They had both had a busy week, with surveillance and meeting schedules that seemed rarely to overlap. Robin had let herself into Strike’s flat at six that evening, eaten a lonely dinner while watching television, and gone to bed at nine, knowing Strike would not be returning for several more hours. She had registered his arrival in her sleep, but it had not awoken her like she was awake now.

Well, she reflected, she’d already had six solid hours of sleep, which was actually a decent night’s sleep for her these days. Strike was lying on his side, facing her, curled cozily, sheets half off, bare, hirsute torso exposed. She wished he was awake. 

Robin rolled onto her side so that she was mirroring Strike on the bed. As she watched him sleep, she felt heat grow in her core, and she squeezed her thighs together, as if trying to stop the feeling from spreading any further. Strike was asleep, and she knew he probably had not arrived at home until midnight. He needed rest.

Moving a bit closer, Robin rolled onto her other side, so that the sleeping Strike was, unknowingly, spooning her. She could feel the warmth of his body against her, and it did nothing to soothe her - it just made her more restless. Gently, she reached behind her and pulled his arm over her, absently stroking the coarse hair on his thick forearm, up and down, the friction creating a tingling feeling in her fingertips.

Trying to think of something boring - anything - that would help her fall asleep again, Robin tried to turn her mind to their schedule for the next day. Neither of them were on the rota for surveillance, but they did have a meeting in the morning with their accountant. Just routine, to review their finances and tax status. Boring. Dull. But then Robin felt a surge of pride at the fact that she and Strike had a  _ business _ . One that was functional enough to have employees and contractors and a secretary that wasn’t her. Would she have believed it, if someone had told her the future five years ago?

Strike shifted in his sleep a bit, and his large hand fell right on Robin’s right breast, not cupping it, simply resting. She could feel his breath on her neck as he slept and she shifted back a little closer to him. To her surprise, she felt something hard press against her backside as she did so. She bit her lip. Certain by the sound of his breathing that Strike was still sleeping, Robin slowly moved her left hand up her thigh, and surreptitiously pressed it between her legs. Could she? With Strike sleeping next to her? Slowly, she moved her hand under her pajama bottoms, using her forefinger and middle finger to stroke gently over the cotton of her pantaloons. She relaxed a bit. The feeling was pleasant, tingly, but not exactly what she wanted.

What she wanted was currently burgeoning against her backside. Fuck it. She was bored, and she’d never known Strike to refuse an invitation of this kind. Holding on to the hand that was resting on her breast, Robin shifted onto her back, causing the bed to rock a bit. She waited a moment, to see if it was enough to rouse her partner, but he seemed to be having a pleasant dream. She hoped it involved her.

Turning now, to face Strike again, Robin devised a plan. Stealthily, she removed her pajama top, tossing it onto the floor, and slowly shimmied out of her bottoms, kicking them to the bottom of the bed. Now the only thing separating her from Strike were the boxers that served as sleepwear for him. Slowly, she ran her hands up and down his chest, letting her fingers tease and tangle the thick hair there. Strike moaned in his sleep and rolled onto his back.

Now determined, Robin propped herself up one elbow, and continued to lightly stroke Strike’s upper body with her other hand. Her fingers drifted like feathers across his chest, lingering to gently tweak a nipple, and Strike shifted, and grunted in his sleep. Allowing a finger to trace a line between his pectoral muscles, she opened her palm to allow full contact with the hair on his abdomen, which was thick and wiry and comforting to rub. She had asked him, a few weeks earlier, how he could resist not constantly rubbing his belly, and he had rolled his eyes and laughed self-consciously, but to Robin, it was heaven, and though it was normally something calming she liked to do before she fell asleep, she found it highly arousing at present.

Robin allowed her hand to wander further down, until she hit the elastic band of Strike’s boxers. Lightly, she allowed her fingers to travel lower, outside the fabric, checking to see if his erection was lasting, or whether it had been the result of a passing dream. But he felt reassuringly firm, and she allowed herself a quick stroke, and let her hand rest for a moment, as she plotted her next move.

She wondered how Strike might react to waking up with her lips around him, quietly moving up and down until he woke from his slumbers. Not for the first time, she wished she had a link into Strike’s brain, to see what he was dreaming. If only she knew, she could try to make it a reality. But it also felt a little wrong to take advantage of him in this way. 

The other option was to let him sleep, and try to finish this by herself. But they were at his flat, and there was nowhere to go except the tiny bathroom or kitchenette, and she was quite warm and comfortable in the bed. She rolled onto her back, removing her hand from Strike, and moved it to herself, using two fingers to stroke the silky folds surrounding her opening, and she squirmed pleasurably, but shot a sideways glance at Strike, feeling suddenly self-conscious. She didn’t want to do this alone. 

Robin scooted up so that her face was level with Strike’s ear, and she whispered into it, “What are you dreaming?” She ended the question with a flick of her tongue and a gentle bite on his earlobe. Strike’s eyes did not open, but he did seem to hear her. His lips curled in a hint of a smile. Emboldened by the reaction, Robin leaned in again. “If you tell me, I can make it happen.” Another lick, another nip, and she moved her lips to the corner of his mouth.

Strike shifted a bit, and said, “Robin,” in a soft, sleepy voice. He reached out a hand, searching for her in the bed, and she grabbed it, placing a kiss on the rough knuckles, and then connecting it with her breast. Strike sighed.

Slowly, his hand seemed to awaken, even as his eyes remained closed. Using his thumb and forefinger, he gently pulled at her nipple, all the while managing to caress the rest of her breast with the palm of his hand. Robin moaned into his ear. 

Hooking a leg over Strike’s, Robin reached down with her hand and began stroking Strike’s rigid shaft through his boxers. She slid her leg up and down his, enjoying the feel of his strong thigh muscles underneath her foot. Though still not opening his eyes, Strike’s arm was migrating from her breast, down her stomach, and Robin gasped when his hand moved to cup her warmth, staying there for a moment, resting. Even though he wasn’t moving, the heat from his hand and the anticipation of what those fingers might do to her almost pushed Robin over the edge. 

Wriggling closer, Robin used the opportunity to slide her hand underneath the elastic of Strike’s boxers, marveling at how his shaft could be simultaneously solid and silky and so, so warm. She could feel it throbbing under her fingertips, and the thought of it filling her immediately caused her to grow wetter. 

Strike’s fingers now began to move, stroking her lips below and circling around her clit, but not touching it directly. Her hand still stroking him, Robin placed a kiss on his shoulder, and then allowed her head to fall back to the pillow, as she relished the sensation that was building between her legs and up through her body. Her hips moved as if having their own private conversation with Strike’s talented fingers, and soon he was moving one inside her, then two, in and out, bending in the way that he knew would soon bring her total pleasure.

Yet Strike did not look entirely comfortable. He was still lying mostly flat on the bed, and the hand that was now working its magic on her was twisted at an odd angle. As much as she wanted to continue, Robin pulled away, and climbed to her knees, reaching down to pull Strike’s boxers down, twisting them off of his right leg. Then she climbed on top of him, rubbing herself along the length of his cock, the motion and friction replacing the work of his fingers. 

Strike growled. His eyes fluttered open, and Robin covered them lightly with her hand. “No need to wake up,” she said, and he chuckled lightly, indicating that he was very much awake, but he closed his eyes again, allowing her to play her game.

Reaching down, Robin slowly guided Strike inside her, allowing herself to move deliberately at her own pace. Even though she was leading this liaison, she still gasped and heard herself moan as Strike filled her, and he gently shifted his hips upward to complete the connection between them.

Robin pressed lightly on his chest with her hands, moving up and down at a leisurely pace. Strike stretched out one arm, and then another, and placed his hands on either side of her arse, not pulling, not grabbing, simply resting, and then, slowly, using his thumbs to rub circles around the sensitive areas just within the crevice. She leaned forward, allowing his groin to create pleasurable friction against her clit. 

His fingers wandered dangerously close to her other opening, and she gasped, not used to the sensation, but noting that it was not unpleasant. She stilled for a moment, using her pelvic muscles to squeeze against his cock. Strike let out a sigh of contentment, and moved one of his hands back around to her front, running his fingers up her stomach towards her breasts.

Robin gasped. She leaned back, her hands behind her now, holding herself up at an angle, and Strike’s hand fell from her breast, now out of reach, to her clit once again. She saw his eyes flicker open again; he liked this view, she knew, and unable to form any words, she chose not to admonish him this time.

Pressure was building within her. Letting out a cry, she leaned forward again, her hands framing his face on the bed, her hair ghosting across his face. Strike arched up to kiss her, all the while continuing to pulse gently into her. She dug her knees into the bed, and ground herself against him, as close as she could get, bending her head to nip at the sensitive spot right behind his ear.

The sound that Strike emitted was a cross between a groan and a breath. He grabbed her arse again with both hands, and helped her dig deeper, as he thrust upwards, once, twice, and on the third time, Robin felt the release pour over her, every muscle in her body tensing, and then relaxing immediately, and she allowed herself to fall limp on top of him. One final lick on his earlobe, and Strike came with force, continuing to slowly pump into her for several more seconds, savoring the warmth.

Robin straightened her legs, so that she was covering him entirely with her body, and his hands moved slowly up her back, down her arms, caressing her gently. He turned his head to place a series of kisses along her neck, and Robin rolled off of him, to the side, allowing one arm and one leg to drape across him. 

“Thanks,” she murmured. “Now I can go to sleep.”

“I  _ was  _ asleep,” he said. 

“Are you complaining?” she asked.

“Never,” he replied. And soon they both fell into a deep and restful sleep.


End file.
